


Havana

by ypsese



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bathing/Washing, Blades of Narnia, Blood and Injury, Book/Movie: Prince Caspian, Book/Movie: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Discrimination, Drowning, F/M, Gentle Kissing, Love at First Sight, Major Character Injury, Narnia, Physical Disability, Post-Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Secret Admirer, Self-Esteem Issues, Slavery, Surprise Kissing, Swords & Sorcery, Torture, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-07 01:08:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16844092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ypsese/pseuds/ypsese
Summary: "I deeply apologise for my inaction, Miss." His head bowed towards me, and something inside me twisted wonderfully. This unknown man of royalty was apologising and bowing to me? I was just a lowly peasant; it was highly uncouth of him to do so."I fear I am a lousy King," he continued, sending my thawing body into a panic. "Allowing your anguish to sustain."King? King...?King.He was King Caspian? The King Caspian. King Caspian X





	1. Chapter One

✣

I can't say I didn't see this mess coming. By popular opinion, anyone in the district of Adanu that desisted from common beliefs was doomed to be an outcast.

They say the free-mind is power, and that believing in yourself will find you everlasting happiness. But that was before the Slave-Traders raided Adanu.

Maybe once upon a time, Adanu had been a quaint community with flourishing markets, happy townspeople and no connections to the Telmarines. But once those scoundrels invaded Narnia land, a forecast of human fortitude surrounded us.

Within our safe walls, stone buildings and schools filled with hopeful children, the mayor of Adanu assumed the townspeople put up a fight against the trespassers.

Oh, how wrong he was. Adanu ceased into the shadows of cowardice, living off the land like a blood sucking leach. Quickly and quietly the masses pledged their allegiance to the Telmarines, cutting down any existence of Narnian magic of harmony.

After the conquest, remembrance of inhuman inhabitances was unheard of. A barraging genocide was committed to the land; dwarfs, goblins, pixies, centaurs, minotaurs — were wiped from known existence.

I had once been open to the subject of inevitable change, and the philosophy of fate. My progenitors had been noble followers of Aslan and the realms of Narnia, and because of their beliefs, I had grown up in correspondence. 

Adanu, formally known as Danu, was the resting place of the Earth Goddess. A figure of creation and harmony, the Earth Goddess helped Aslan create Narnia, with all the stars and the sky.

Once again being reminded that Adanu had been a place of nature, contentment and tranquillity filled me with guilt. Ancient texts described the lands of Danu as verdant. Sparkling waterfalls, colourful meadows and wondrous hills. Creatures of all shapes and sizes would sing in the distance, humming full gratitude for the verdurous land they dwelled in.

I was born with golden eyes, a representation of the appraisal of Danu. A symbol of anger and disappointment from primordial times. Life had suffered under the rule of Adam and Eve's children, and Danu was not happy about how her people had been treated.

Isolated, refuted and slandered. Slaughtered, abused, butchered and neglected. Danu's people had been overrun, and her nation had been disrespected, the wrath within her was taken out on an infant.

Me.

Upon the realisation that the birthplace of many nations had been infected by the petty problems of humans; my parents took it upon themselves to appease Danu's hatred.

You can imagine how well their dispositions performed. Much like Narnians, my mother and father were driven from the walls of Aduna, fruits and grains smearing their faces.

Even as a small child I understood that Aduna was a community of narrowminded, stubborn individuals that were resistant to any sort of change; good or bad.

But despite the harsh insults that had been ingrained into my families name; my mother and father persisted. For years and years, we lived in a pitiful mud-built hut, scrummaging through sewage and pigstyes for scraps. All because my parents believed in the Ancient Narnia Tales.

Naturally, I was brought up as an outcast also; but for many different reasons. The townspeople of Adanu believed my offspring to be an omen of bad luck, that my parents were insane, and that my golden eyes were a symbol of malicious magic.

I had never understood my parent's fascination with old Narnia and the stories of the ancient times. Only after my wellsprings passing, did I finally start to acknowledge the allure of the Golden Age.

As I aged into young adulthood, I began to dwell longer and longer in the libraries of Adanu. After hours, I would sneak into the marketplace, rummage up all the food I could find and dart into the archives.

I would read books about Aslan and the Kings and Queens of Narnia until I spotted the sun peaking over the dark mountains that scraped at the edge of the sky.

Before the townspeople were woken by their livestock, I would rush back to my inhabitants; the small tent my parents had built all those years ago. Books were tucked under my woollen dress by my worn out girdle and I would continue to read books throughout the day, sparing my fruits and subsistence to last the night.

Life had been somewhat easy for years. I'd gotten to a period where I'd read every book in the library and spent my days milling around the meadows, dodging Telmarine soldiers whenever they visited the town.

Not too long after that, I heard news that King Miraz of Narnia had been slain by High King Peter. As gossip runs in Adanu, Prince Caspian, son of King Caspian The IX, blew High Queen Susan's horn which summoned the Old Kings and Queens of Narnia.

A silent war it seems was fought against the Telmarines and Narnia's alike united to fight the injustice Miraz had spread throughout the land. Many times I had wished to see such a historical act be outplayed, but the meadows was where I belonged. 

The people of Adanu described Minotaurs, Centaurs, Dwarfs, Trolls, sentient animals and the Kings and Queens of Narnia charging into battle at the ruins of Cair Paravel.

Whispers of Aslan being at the Stone Table had sent me into a fervour of excitement. Followed by a shroud of disappointment that my parent's life's work had been swallowed away on a small hill between selfish and selfless.

Soon after, any kingdom held under Miraz's reign was set free. Inhabitants of all kinds flourished for what seemed like a moment before bitter betrayal set in.

Humans of Adam and Eve that were so devoid of hope and belief fought back against the peace Aslan had produced. Civil conflicts broke out, murder continued, and I was still a young girl living in a tiny hut on the outskirts of Adanu.

That was before the Slave-Traders found me.

It had been a delightful day, the literature I had stolen from the library lay around me, buried beneath dirty clothes, hearty scraps, and the leather strings of my sleeveless tunic.

Birds had sung, Pixies would frolick and trees swayed. It was unlike anything that had been heard of for thousands of years. Something so unusually magical was brimming at the doorstep of my humble hut.

If had been closer to town, I might've of heard the news. Horrid men, with gnarley yellow teeth, long ratty hair and dark eyes were invading towns and capturing women and children.

It had been too late. Before I could even get to my feet, they were grabbing for me. A man with broad shoulders and bloody clothes had his hands on me, one threading into my oily hair and pulling hard, the other pointing a sharp dagger into my back with a warning.

I tried to scream, but I was very aware that no one had ever come to my aid before, why would they come now? I still resisted, I kicked and screamed and wriggled so much that the large man had to cover my mouth with his grimy hands.

"Silence!" He had boomed. "Disgusting banshee."

Another man came from a cart that was further down the forest track and tied my hands and feet together with itchy rope. My mere chance of escape had been hindered sufficiently as I was thrown into the back of their wagon.

Manure coated my arms and legs and went straight up my nose. I howled in disgust, spluttering and gaging as the two men clambered back into the front of the cart.

They whipped their horses angrily, causing a hasty acceleration into the foliage of trees in their wake. I felt a small amount of bile rise in my throat and hit the back of my teeth, my eyes narrowed in tingling pain and tears squirmed in the corners of my eyes.

I knew exactly where they were taking me. Adanu was renowned for the disgusting prison chambers and deplorable soldiers. I also had heady reasoning as to why I was getting taken.

The large man had called me a Banshee. Something that only the old townspeople of Adanu had called me when I was a mere child. Because of my golden eyes, and my parent's beliefs, the townspeople used to throw stones and rotten fruit at me, in fear of being delivered death omens.

A Banshee was a female creature of the night, anyone who would hear its eerie wails would run in fear, for it heralds an imminent death. Because of my harrowingly malnourished appearance and gold iris's, I was often linked to the Fate Goddess, Morrigan who foretold death on the battlefield.

But I was neither a Goddess or a Banshee, I was merely a peasant of Adanu, shunned for my parent's beliefs. But because of Aslan's arrival back in Narnia, I figured that name had been banished from the land after Caspian The X had been crowned.

I was unfortunately wrong. Th men rode into town, which was eerily quiet, deserted almost except for the men aloft their horses, chugging down frothy pints of beer.

I had been dragged across the small castle, along the dirty floors, leaving a trail of filthy manure in my wake. They found an exceptionally isolated prison chamber for me, and I was tossed onto the cold stone floor, the metal bars rutting behind me.

And here I have been ever since.

✣

"Get up," some yelled right in my ear, startling me from my slumber. "Food is here."

My eyes cracked open, burning in the light of the torches. The bacteria that was building up in the corners of my eyes caused me to flinch in pain and rub at my eyes with my dirty hands.

The morning air was cold and crisp, much like the floor I was sleeping on. My back was aching vehemently and my stomach felt like a deflated parade balloon from one those High King and Queen Gala's.

Before I could even come to my senses, the man who had woken me was throwing a large metal carton through the bars. Piercingly cold water drenched my figure

A chilling sensation crackled straight through my spine and I shrieked and scrambled across the floor like a legless lamb. The man who'd doused me with freezing sewage water cackled happily.

"You know the rules Banshee," he mused. "If you aren't awake by my appearance, there are consequences."

I was too busy squirming to answer. The cold, disgusting water filled my already rotten clothing and left me gasping and startled, spread out like a sea creature on the cobblestone floor.

"Are you listenin' peasant?" The man demanded. "Do I have to teach you another lesson?"

I garbled out incoherent words before my hands came to wrap around the rusted bars, I could already feel the metal splinters sinking into my calloused palms.

"Alright!" The man sneered. "You're gettin' the whip this mornin'."

At the iciness of his words, I felt the savage cuts from yesterday burn down my spine as a breathy whimper bared my throat. "...P-Please Sir Larzid, I was merely attempting to catch my breath, I deeply apologise for any sign of disrespect."

The plump man looked down at me with his beady eyes and weak chin, a wicked smile painting his features. "I do not care your excuses girly,"

My heart dropped and I hung my head. I was foolish to think he would decide otherwise.

The days always start off the same. I wake at dusk by the sounds of livestock and horns. Torches are lit up around the square of Adanu, and this same man, Larzid would come to douse me with icy water, even if I was awake.

Larzid got a kick out of punishing me because I was a livid believer of Aslan. Most of the Keepers that were on safeguard cherished their cyclic torture visits. Some made me beg, some made me cry, some made me scream. But I never backed down from what I believed in, much to all their displeasures.

I stuck to my spirits. I'd read too many books, and seen too many miracles to give up now. I was just as stubborn and unyielding as my parents were. I knew Aslan was out there somewhere, and I knew Danu was protecting me somehow.

But the Keepers hated me for it.

The bars rattled open and Larzid grabbed me roughly by the hair, pulling me angrily to my feet. I yelped in pain, feeling the roots of my hair beg to be released. His other hand went to my throat, his chubby fingers clawing deep into the flesh around the neck.

I was dragged by my heals over the uneven cobble, down a flight of splintering stairs into the torture chamber. Specks of dark blood had stained the polished floor, the windows were cracked, covered in cobwebs and wasted metal bars.

Larzid pulled me by my neck to the usual whipping spot, giggling all the way. The whips were simple leather and hung to the side of the building, by small hooks. An ashen smell of fire and blood filled my nose with a copper aftertaste and I gagged.

Larzid forced me onto my knees, my bones groaning in submission aa the sound echoed across the room. With a fistful of my hair, Larzid pulled a whip from the wall and laid it down beside me on a nearby table.

I swallowed heavily looking at the long strap that was soon to attack my stern. I felt Larzid's hands come to the back of my tunic and he tore away the clothing, leaving my infected cuts exposed to the cold, musty air.

I held my breath as the whip came down on my back. Pain seized my being for one moment before the stinging expanded out like a wave of molten lava. I sniffed, my lungs felt like stone and the pain was practically unbearable.

I made no advances to scream or cry. I merely closed my eyes and imagined a better place. Playing tag in the meadows with my parents as a child, sneaking into the library at midnight, munching on seasonal fruit, playing with the forest dryads, admiring the unicorns from the wild plains.

Tears flooded my eyes, hot and stinging down my cheeks as the endless barrage to my spine continued. With every strike, Larzid would grunt out an insult, murmuring about how disgusting I was and saying that if he had it his way, he'd have already killed me.

When Larzid was finally satisfied with ruining my flesh, he coughed appreciatively and fastened the whip to the wall again. I could feel blood trickling down my back and meeting the hem of my skirt. Tears were messy down my cheeks and the pain was like a hot iron being stitched into my skin.

"Get up," Larzid barked, pulling me by the neck to my feet, almost crushing my windpipe in the process. My feet dangled an inch off the ground, spittle flew from my lip as I stared at my captor. Larzid had a filthy grin on his face as his fingers dug deeper into my neck.

"No meals today for your impudence."

My heart shrivelled in my chest and I felt something sink into my throat, hot and sharp. I hadn't eaten in two days and my stomach was shrinking to the size of a pea. I dared to think of how my body would cope with another lost meal.

Larzid's eyes twitched in anger as he dropped me, my ankle twisted and popped against the cold floor, causing a shameless cry to escape my bloodied lips.

Larzid sighed, grabbing me by my dislocated ankle and pulling me along the floor. Something in my chest disintegrated and I screamed so loud I was sure the whole town could hear. Not that they cared.

I was then dragged up a flight of stairs by my dislocated ankle. My lacerated back dragging against the dirty cobblestone and awakening agony so real I passed out for a moment.

The pain was unimaginable, I saw black and white, red and yellow, dark blotches ceased my vision and I was hit with waves and waves of vertigo. I wretched and gagged as I screamed, vomit and blood smearing the floor.

When I finally got back to my cell, Larzid through me onto the floor and laughed at my ruined state. I was used to his torment, used to his steely glares and cruel words. 

"Look at you," he clicked his tongue. "So pathetic."

The metal bars rattled shut and he locked my cell with the key hanging around his groin. I could barely hear his words over the endless pain writhing through my body.

"No one is ever going to save you," he said softly. "No one wants to buy you either...that's how insignificant you are. Not even the trolls want something like you."

His words were poison, but I was already infected. I tried to peak up from the crook of my arms, but the pain was so heavy I could barely move from my fetal position on the floor.

"Your auction is at noon." Larzid snapped, and with one final glare to the back of my head, he turned on his heel and left, his footsteps echoing across the prison walls.

✣

The sun was directly in the sky when I was pushed onto the wooden podium. Chains were bound to my hands so tightly I could feel my skin turning raw.

My fingers felt itchy and I twiddled them beneath the customary cloak I wore. I would always get anxious at disposals, I hated the way people stared and I hated the way I looked.

The sun burned into the back of my head, making me sweat profusely. There was no wind today, delivering an unforgiving humidity in the town square.

It went from freezing mornings to heavy afternoons very quickly in Aduna. Which left little crops to grow, and even littler patience for the Slave-Traders.

The townspeople had gathered, mostly men, holding small sacks of coins, jingling them softly between their fingers in nervous tension. Horses stamped their feet at the nearby stables, wolves wagged their tails at their master's feet.

It was always the same.

"Starting the bid," Larzid called, standing next to his boss, the head of the Slave-Traders; Usogan The Insane. Larzid looked flushed standing next to someone so tall and muscular. His chest was puffed out, his receding hair swept to the side in a pathetic attempt to hide his ginormous forehead.

The crowd kept quiet, whispering to one another and pointing at my face. Some men turned and walked away, others laughed, and some looked utterly mortified, faces scrunched up in disgust.

I hung my head.

"C'mon," Larzid whistled. "Not even one?"

The crowd remained unimpressed, faces crinkled in disappointment. I watched their sights, trailing my nasty skin, my bruised bones and sunken cheeks. Their wry eyes and mocking expressions cut me, my heart burning with humiliation.

I was pulled from the podium by my shackles, toppling over and sprawling across the stone floor like a weak old woman. The men laughed at me, cockeyed and amused as my head cracked against the pavement.

Usogan's large shadow hovered over my crippled figure, his eyes distorted with fury. I felt myself swallow heavily, rocks plummetting into my empty stomach. The large man reached for my chains and used them to pull me to my feet, dangling me by my wrists.

Usogan gave me a cruel once over. His eyes were smouldering like charcoal and his expression was ghoulish. I could tell he was not impressed by today's commerce.

"Ready the guillotine," his voice was so deep it almost shook the floor. "she is of no use to me anymore."

✣


	2. Chapter Two

✣

The day went on slowly and painfully. My body ached to my very core, like someone had poisoned my soul. I had been thrown back into my cell, trembling so terribly I feared my heart would give out.

I sat, cradling my bruised knees to my chest in the very corner of my prison. Sunlight speared through the single barred window and burned into the back of my skull.

A headache charred my brain in two and I was left groaning quietly to myself as I awaited my public execution. A numb feeling filled my heart and I sighed into my greasy palms.

For years I had lived in this cell, praying for safety and health, but now I was going to die at the hands of my captors, who had led me into a life of misery.

My distress and grief multiplied tenfold and tears started to burn down my cheeks, messy and hot like a frothing waterfall.

The prison was unusually quiet and allowed for my cries to echo along the walls. I could feel what little strength I had left flittering away as my sobs continued.

As I sat there crying, I heard a small outcry come from the town centre. At first, I thought nothing of the sound, it was a normality in Adanu. I figured it was just one of the beggers being beaten, or conflict had broken out between two hecklers.

But then a colossal cluttering noise deterred me. The sound of animals roaring, men wailing in fear and horns of war being blown.

I wobbled to my feet as thundering footsteps and clashing metal filled my ears, I peaked out my fenced window and into the valley to see what looked like an army of people charging into Adanu.

Centaurs armed with swords and shields blasted through men like dried leaves, tigers and other ferocious animals tore into necks and ligaments, men on horses and unicorns circled the dirty townsmen.

"To the towers!" A bald man called. He was wearing navy blue, a sign of wealth.

My heart sank in fear, realising that they might've been raiders. I dropped my head from the window and looked around my diminutive prison cell. There was nowhere to hide that they would not find me, panic rattled in my chest and I curled up in a corner adjacent to the cell door and tucked my head into my knees.

I listened as the army broke into the towers, roaring victory cries as they cut down anyone in there way. I could hear bewailings of defeat, stomps of hooves and the giggling of trolls.

My heart lurched in my chest and I buried my head deeper into my knees, praying they wouldn't find me. I could hear them getting closer, travelling up the stairs in herds.

"Free the slaves!" A deep voice called from right outside my cell door. A lump lodged in my throat and I whimpered into my hands. The entrance to my sell rattled open and I could hear polished shoes clicking on the cobbled floor.

"No one is in here Sire," another voice called out, very close to my position curled up near the door. My spine froze up when I heard the way that man addressed the other person.

"Let me see Reepicheep," a new voice affirmed. "It wouldn't be locked for nothing."

I peeked my head up through my hooded drapes, curiosity getting the best of me. I almost gasped allowed at what I saw. A tall man with brown hair was holding a conversation with a rat.

The rat had a plume of multicoloured feathers on his head, and a rapier sword strapped to his side. I felt my watery eyes widen and my mouth fall open upon observing them.

The man turned his gaze from his companion and caught my eye. Almost immediately I felt myself swallow in fear and move my back as far as I could against the wall.

A cold pressing feeling warped my vision and I shrivelled up as the man approached. I watched him near me in a crouch, his hands resting on his knees, nowhere near his weapon of choice.

The man's almond eyes shimmered delicately and an utterly crestfallen expression fell upon his lips.

"...Reepicheep," his voice was soft with hurt, maybe even disappointment as well. "Get Queen Lucy's healing cordial will you?..."

Reepicheep's beady eyes gazed upon my face, the feather atop his head twinkling, almost nervously.

"As you wish, Sire."

I wasn't sure what exactly was going through the rodents mind, but I could imagine. I watched the rodent scamper from the room on all fours, his sword scrapping the floor and sending awful screeches into the air.

The man looked hesitant as he reached out like I was going to bite his fingers off or turn him stone. I did neither of those things as he upturned the hoody on my head.

I small gasp left his lips, moving my shambled confidence to spill onto the floor. I knew I looked horrendous, but I didn't need this handsome man to vocalise his disgust so openly.

Apparently, the man's comprehension skills were better than I had initially anticipated because he nervously licked his lips, watching my bitter expression.

A silence burned dangerously between us, I didn't dare speak up, fearing my tongue might spit fire and venom. A vengeance so deep was crackling in my stomach, and looking at this figure of royalty reminded me sourly of my place in this world.

"These," his voice cracked a little and he flushed red. "These awful men did this to you, and I..."

I pointedly stared at him, watching his introductions get tangled up in his throat. I wasn't quite sure what point he was attempting to make, but whatever it was, it was causing him conflict.

"I deeply apologise for my inaction, Miss." His head bowed towards me, and something inside me twisted wonderfully. This unknown man of royalty was apologising and bowing to me? I was just a lowly peasant, it was highly uncouth of him to do so.

"I fear I am a lousy King," he continued, sending my thawing body into a panic. "Allowing your anguish to sustain."

King? King...?King.

 _He_ was King Caspian? _The_ King Caspian. King Caspian X

My brain started to reconfigure and punch itself, thoughts barraging the inside of my head. The King of Narnia had just bowed to me. That was highly disrespectful of so many levels, so much so my body started to shake in panicky fervour.

"Punishment like this is unheard of," he mumbled as the fingers that held onto my dirty hood trembled. I started, my mouth was sewn together in unspeakable awe and confusion as the handsome King's lips quivered.

I observed him. King Caspian X had scars along his arms and blood soaking into the vibrant colours of his tunic. His body was lean with muscle, strength and discipline practically screaming at me through his pores.

His eyes were a warm, honey coloured brown; like goopy strings of pollen and the scruffy beard surrounding his cheeks bones covered a nasty scar. Despite the stench of blood surrounding me, I could feel the warmth and safety radiating off him.

"Sire," a voice from the corridor called me back into reality. Reepicheep was standing near the exit, holding a small red vile. I looked back at the King nervously, my legs shaking so violently my knees started to ache.

"This is a healing elixir," Caspian explained as Reepicheep handed over the concoction. "Given to Queen Lucy the Valiant. It will heal your wounds."

Upon hearing the word wound, flares of pain rippled across my back like waves of acid. My infected cuts burned with dark blood, infected with all kinds of harmful bacteria.

Caspian popped the cap on the vile with a single squeaky nose and motion my head back. I shimmied a little and managed to pry my lips open a little. A small red droplet fell from the broth and landed on my lips.

The liquid burned into my mind like a thousand red Tupor Lillies from the meadows I was born in, but tasted like baked bread and daisy cha from better days with my mother and father.

I shivered like a tiny bird as my skin tightened and my lungs felt like molten steel. The rodent soldier and the King watched expectantly as if my skin would become clear and all the grime would clear from my face.

I could barely breathe let alone announce my fury at their flimsy expectations. Caspian seemed to understand my pain because his hand came to rest at my shoulder, light enough as to not hurt me.

"It's okay," King Caspian assured me. "You'll be safe now."

I swallowed softly, reminded suddenly that there are good people in Narnia. Good, wholesome people who care about the wellbeing of others. Reepicheep the rat watched me carefully, sceptical towards my appearance, as though I was a secret assassin.

King Caspian got off his knees, his impressive height towering over me. I attempted to stand in correspondence to his movement, high with happiness over my release from my prison. But I forget a minor detail,

My legs were not on par with my mentality. I collapsed rather ungracefully into a crumpled pile of tattered clothes and bruised skin. I looked up, my cheeks burning bashfully in embarrassment to be met with the same pair of disheartened eyes I'd stared into when they first broke into my cell.

There was apparently a problem and I could see the thoughts tinking away in the King's brain. I assumed they would get a wheelbarrow, or drag me across the kingdom much like Larzid had done so.

"Do you mind if I were to carry you?" He said softly, his eyes blindingly kind. My throat swelled up like I was vomiting rocks and I stared at him incredulously. I couldn't believe his suggestion. I was probably crawling with diseases and most definitely smelled like a pig sty and he offered to carry me?

Lump still in my throat, I stared at him like a little kitten before nodding my head shortly. King Caspian wasted no time in kneeling at my side and gently bringing his hands to my back.

It tingled with pain and I tried not to let it show as his other arm came to scoop under my knees. King Caspian gave me a moment to adjust before he raised me into the air. I whimpered a little, clutching at his arm with all my withered strength.

Reepicheep scampered across the floor at King Caspian's feet. "Sire, shall I call the troops back."

I gazed at the small soldier, his feather now gleaming in the sunlight as King Caspian took two cobbled stairs at a time. The sudden jerky movements sent jolts of pain up and down my back like zigzagging electricity.

I managed to choke back all my cries by burying my face into the elbow of King Caspian's beautiful shirt. It smelled of rich spices, amber and jasmine. It reminded me of the Turkish Bizare and all the markets set up across the coastal line.

"Indeed Reepicheep," King Caspian confirmed. "We're done here, back to the ship."

"As you wish Sire," Reepicheep bowed as we got to the end of the prison cabins.

"Ready the Dawn Treader!"

✣


End file.
